Farewell Sir Lancelot
by bluespiritgal
Summary: One shot scene from the end of S4:E9 : Lancelot du Lac. SPOILER WARNING for this episode and S4: E1&2: the Darkest Hour. Merlin has one last duty to perform for his friend Lancelot. Trouble is who will be there pick up the pieces when Merlin falls apart?


**Farewell Sir Lancelot**

*****WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: Episodes 1 & 2, The DARKEST HOUR, and Episode 9: LANCELOT DE LAC ******

**Category: Friendship/Comfort, one shot, complete**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the share or the guys, but wish I did! **

**My first Merlin Fanfic...hope you enjoy! **

Merlin gazed down at the still form laid careful out in the reed lined wooden boat, arms resting at his sides, eyes closed as if in deep slumber. His throat tightened all over again in renewed grief for the loyal knight whom Merlin considered a friend. Lancelot, the bravest, most honorable Knight in all of Camelot, the only one who had ever truly understood and accepted the young warlock, was gone.

Merlin's grief was only matched by the anger he still felt over Morgana's desecration of his friend's spirit, using ancient and dark magic to drag Lancelot from his place of rest, forcing him to become a Shade.

A shadow of his former self, a slave, Morgana had used him as a tool for her own evil bidding in her quest to drive a wedge permanently between Arthur and Gwen in the most horrific and hurtful of ways.

She had succeeded. Gwen was banished from Camelot under penalty of death should she return and the King's heart was broken. Not only by the betrayal of the woman he still loved but also by the knight who had unselfishly offered his own life in sacrifice to repair the veil.

Merlin never felt more alone than he did right now. His master's sorrow weighed as heavily as Lancelot's death and Gwen's banishment. He could do nothing for Arthur or Guinevere at the moment, but Merlin was determined to make right at least one wrong.

Bending down he placed his hand on Lancelot's forehead. His eyes glowed golden as he spoke the ancient words that came from his heart.

Lancelot gasped. His eyes fluttered open. He turned his head tiredly towards the young warlock who could not keep the tears from his own.

"Merlin," Lancelot whispered. For a moment their eyes met and in that briefest span of time, Merlin saw his noble friend once more, no longer a slave, a tormented soul under the control of Morgana's spell. For the briefest moment life shone in the dark eyes that were clear, pure. Merlin smiled, though he couldn't quite keep the tremble from his lips as Lancelot said quietly. "Thank you."

The knight's eyes closed once again, his head lolling back to its original position and he exhaled his last and final breath.

Merlin gave the boat a little push out into the serene lake and then stood. He closed his eyes briefly, unable for a moment to get past the pain before raising his arm. His eyes flashed golden again and the boat was lit on fire.

As the young warlock stood on the bank watching the flames, he could no longer hold his grief in and let his tears flow freely as fire consumed the body of his noble friend.

Suddenly it became too much for Merlin to bear and he collapsed to the ground, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms loosely around them as his shoulders sagged and shook with his sobs.

For the first time in days, Merlin didn't even try to hold back his grief, but allowed the pain to consume him.

Ever since he realized the Lancelot that had miraculously returned from the dead was not at all what he seemed but a Shade instead, Merlin had been holding his emotions tightly in check. The young warlock's feelings were further compounded by his guilt in failing to prevent Morgana's plan from succeeding.

And afterwards, he felt he had to be strong, for his master's sake, knowing Arthur's world, his happiness was crashing down around him. Merlin tried to reason with Arthur, but the king's own pain at Gwen's betrayal and the influence Agravaine had over him had finally silenced Merlin's tongue when he realized Arthur would not yield in his decision.

Despite Arthur's pain, he had at least decreed Lancelot be buried properly as a Knight of Camelot deserved. Some, behind Arthur's back, had disagreed, feeling the knight had sullen his honor too greatly and was guilty of high treason to deserve such respect.

But Merlin had already decided the duty would be his alone to bear. He refused to even acknowledge the whispers of gossip and speculation. It was the very least the young warlock could do for the noble knight who had been nothing but pure of heart, an honorable man in life and in death, and his dear friend.

Quietly he'd taken Lancelot's body and left the castle just before dawn, journeying the distance alone to the lake in the glen, the same lake where Freya had been placed to rest. It felt right to return Lancelot here and somewhere deep inside him, Merlin hoped she would watch over him, protect him.

The thought gave the young warlock some solace but it still hurt, hurt more than he realized for it brought back memories of his own failures and losses, first Will, then his father, Freya, Lancelot and even Gwen. They were all gone and he had failed them each in some way. Even in Arthur, Merlin felt a distance growing between them as his uncle's influence increased and his sire's heart hardened.

In that moment Merlin never felt more alone in his magic, never more lonely in his aloneness.

So caught up in his pain he never heard the footsteps softly approach and was slightly startled by the gentle hand placed on his shoulder.

Merlin glanced up quickly and saw Gwaine. "Been looking for you."

Merlin turned his head briefly away from the knight in an attempt to scrub the tears away with the back of his hand.

Gwaine sat quietly next to him in the tall grass, staring out on the lake watching as the wooden boat slowly began to sink into the still waters, allowing Merlin to regain his composure.

As he watched the boat, the knight known to be the most colorful, talkative and boisterous of all the Knights of Camelot, reflected back his own pain at the loss of the fellow knight that he too, had considered a friend.

Gwaine felt Merlin's grief and a sense of protectiveness overcame him towards the manservant of the king and his first _true_ friend.

"You okay?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin gave a watery smile and a little shrug.

Gwaine yanked a tall blade of grass out and proceeded to play with it. The sun had come up and was warming up the ground, drying the dew that clung to the leaves and leaving everything shimmering in golden light.

"You picked a beautiful place, Merlin."

The warlock nodded. "Yes, it is." He swiveled his head and gazed at the knight who looked at the moment extremely un-knightly, more roguish than anything else, unshaven and only partially in uniform. "How did you find me?"

Merlin hadn't told anyone, not even Gaius, his plans.

Gwaine chuckled. "It wasn't hard. You left a big enough trail that even Sir Leon couldn't miss."

Merlin frowned now, wondering just how long Gwaine had been here, wondering, somewhat anxiously how much he'd seen.

As if Gwaine could read his thoughts, the knight replied. "I figured you needed to do this alone. I know how much Lancelot meant to you as a friend, how close the two of you were, so I waited in the glen. When you didn't come back though, I got a little worried."

"Thank you." Merlin said. The soft quiet tone was one the roguish knight recognized as one of sincerity.

In truth, Merlin's closeness to Lancelot had surpassed most of his friendships, even for a time Arthur, for the single reason the knight was the one and only, outside of Gaius, who knew he had magic. His friendship had offered Merlin a sanctuary to be himself, to not have to hide his true nature. Lancelot also had an understanding of what magic meant to Merlin. It just wasn't a piece of him to be shoved away in a closet; it was part of his very essence. To Merlin, if he couldn't use his magic, he might as well be dead.

Lancelot had kept his secret, but more than that, he had offered his friendship, his council and his services whenever Merlin needed him. The day Lancelot had stepped through the veil into death, not only had Merlin lost a dear friend; he had lost the refuge that friendship had offered.

As for Gwaine, he had sensed the closeness the knight and servant shared, even if he didn't understand it completely. Sometimes he would catch Merlin and Lancelot talking in silent whispers, only to stop if they felt they were being overheard.

It was only what Gwaine had seen in Lancelot's eyes, humbleness combined with a deep sense of respect for the lowly servant that kept the knight from satisfying his own curiosity out of his own respect for Merlin.

Gwaine placed his hand briefly on Merlin's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "You are a faithful and loyal friend, Merlin, one Lancelot would be proud of for sticking by him, till the very end."

Merlin swallowed, trying hard not to let the tears well once more in his eyes. "It was the least I could. He deserved so much better. Gwen and Arthur too."

Gwaine heard no malice, no ill will in the young man's voice, only great sadness and guilt.

"Merlin, you can't blame yourself, surely. What happened, well, it had nothing to do with you. Lancelot and Gwen... " Gwaine let the rest awkwardly drop. He had heard all the rumors, all the talk, and whispers too. And though the whole incident seemed out of character for the honorable knight he knew Lancelot to be, Gwaine was the _last_ person to judge him or Guinevere. Perhaps it was something neither had been able to control.

An anger lit Merlin's eyes that had Gwaine suddenly frowning.

Merlin stared out at the lake where the boat had disappeared into its inky depths, his face reflecting such overwhelming sadness yet something else far more complex as Merlin's hands closed into fists at his sides.

Gwaine knew that look, though the knight didn't completely understand it. He'd seen it a time or two before on the young servant.

It was true Gwaine could be very brackish at times, loved to drink and rarely fit the model of a knight, but he wasn't quite the drunken fool others thought either. In reality, Gwaine could be quite astute; at least when it came to the young manservant most viewed as clumsy and idiotic.

Yes, there was more to Merlin that what met the eye.

There was a deepness in him, a depth of compassion and a caring that made him a true friend. But it was also what pushed Merlin, who face it, could barely hold a sword upright enough to defend himself properly, to time and again place himself in the same compromising and dangerous positions as trained knights sworn to protect their king.

Each time Arthur went out on patrol or on and equally dangerous mission, his faithful manservant was at his side. Gwaine easily read the boy's fears, his uncertainties and Merlin wasn't beyond voicing his complaints, but never once did he back down, turn the other way. It was almost as if something drove Merlin in his loyalty to Arthur and in his determination to protect his friends despite his own clear physical limitations and his fears.

And it was that same thing Gwaine sensed now, compassion and loyalty and something else akin to a need that had clearly prompted Merlin to "steal" Lancelot's body away and bring him here to this particular lake.

Suddenly Merlin took a rock and threw it angrily in the water.

"It wasn't his choice," Merlin suddenly blurted out, unable to control his emotions. It wasn't fair they should blame Lancelot, taint his good name. It wasn't fair Gwen had been forced to leave the only home she had ever known, and it wasn't fair that his master's heart had been so utterly betrayed that he feared Arthur may never be able to trust his own judgments again.

"It wasn't his choice," Merlin repeated, this time quietly and the immense sadness returned to his voice. Suddenly Merlin had a need to have someone to at least understand this eventhough the damage had already been done.

He swiveled his head. "It wasn't Lancelot, at least not the one who sacrificed himself to seal the veil."

Gwaine frowned confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Lancelot was a Shade."

"A Shade. What is that?"

Bitterness, anger laced Merlin's voice. "A being conjured from the darkest of ancient magic that enslaves the soul of the dead, forces them out of their rest to become the unwilling slave of a high preistess."

Gwaine was stunned. "How do you know this?"

"It doesn't matter how, only that it is true."

"Are you sure?"

Merlin nodded, swallowing hard, the tears once again threatening to well and overflow. His voice once more dropped to reflect his sorrow. "Lancelot didn't have a choice. He was forced to come between Arthur and Gwen."

"But why? Who?" Even as he said it, Gwaine suspected the answer.

"I'm sure it was Morgana. She would have done anything to prevent Gwen from becoming Queen and hurt Arthur at the same time."

"But surely if that was the case, Arthur..."

Merlin shook his head. He had initially thought the same thing, that if Arthur was made aware of the truth, everything could be straightened out, but as Gaius had pointed out to him, it had been Gwen's betrayal in the end that had cut the King's heart deepest.

"It doesn't matter. It's too late now. Arthur will never trust Gwen again, and he will never believe anything I say. And, Gwen, she can't forgive herself. I don't know why Gwen did what she did, because I know she loves Arthur, but I suspect the same dark magic that rose Lancelot from the grave and enslaved him may have somehow drawn Gwen to him."

Gwaine heard the heartbreak in the young servant's voice and his own anger began to mount at the truth to his words. Suddenly he understood Merlin's immense grief and he was sickened by it.

"If only I could have stopped it from happening," Merlin said forlornly.

He should have done something sooner, but Merlin had been reluctant to hurt Lancelot until his suspicions were confirmed, not willing to belief, and not understanding Morgana's true intent until it was too late.

Later when Merlin discovered her real plan, he had tried to stop it. He had used his magic on the Shade and had knocked him down, but the Shade had quickly recovered and sent Merlin into the wall, knocking him out. By the time he'd come to, Arthur had nearly killed "Lancelot" only ceasing when Gwen had intervened and pleaded for them to stop.

In the end, it had matter little, for Lancelot had been arrested, thrown in jail and the next morning he'd been found after taking his own life. Merlin suspected, this too, had been part of Morgana's plan.

Gwaine shook his head, hating to see his friend berate himself. It was eating him up. "How could you have possibly done anything? If as you say was true and Lancelot was turned into this Shade thing by dark magic, there was little you or the rest of us could do, my friend."

Merlin just stared straight ahead at the water again and Gwaine knew his friend somehow still blamed himself out of some ridiculous sense of failed duty.

Then another thought occurred to him. "Lancelot, now that the Shade is dead, is his soul free?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin nodded. Of course he couldn't tell the knight it had taken a powerful spell of his own to break the final tether. Only Lancelot had known Merlin had magic, though he did wonder at times if Gwaine had ever suspected.

The knight placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder again, but left it there this time. He never questioned how Merlin could know such things, just accepted them as truth. It was just one of the complex things that made up the matter of his friend, and set Merlin just a little bit apart from everyone else.

What mattered to Gwaine now was to provide solace for his friend. "Take comfort in that at least, Merlin, and in knowing you have honored Lancelot once again. The rest in time will work itself out." Gwaine smiled. "In the meantime, you're not alone, you still have me, such as I am." He added cockily.

That made Merlin smile, just a bit. "Thanks. I appreciate that, really."

Merlin rubbed his fingers over his moistened eyes and finally stood up. Gwaine followed suit and stood next to the thin frame of his friend.

The young warlock looked one last time out onto the still waters before Gwaine saw that determined look return to his eyes. "I need to get back to Camelot." Merlin declared.

He started for his horse tethered to a tree. Gwaine fell into step, and then suddenly on impulse pulled Merlin into a headlock.

"What are you doing?" Merlin demanded, and then yelped as the knight rubbed his knuckles against the top of his head. "Not just yet, my friend. First you are coming with me."

Merlin winced as he tried to pull himself free from the brawny knight without much success. "And where exactly might that be?"

"I know a little tavern you and I are going to get incredibly drunk in."

"Gwaine. I can't. Arthur needs me."

"Correction, Merlin, he needs us! You still fight like a girl, remember?"

Merlin rubbed his head painfully as he was released. "I'm not _that_ bad!"

The knight smiled. "Trust me, you are. Puny arms and two left feet. The only reason you haven't managed to get a sword through you is dumb luck. No my friend, I'm afraid Arthur is stuck with both of us, at least as long as you insist on being so damned loyal to the royal prat. Besides, who but you could put up with me indefinitely?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "That I should be so lucky."

"Come on, Merlin. Tonight we drink to Lancelot, the noblest knight of them all. Tomorrow we ride together to Camelot and Her King!"

A coy smile spread across the young man's face. "That almost sounded like you actually care for Arthur a little?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's still a damn Noble after all," Gwaine replied with a wink. He ruffled Merlin's his hair one last time.

Suddenly Merlin didn't quite feel so alone.

Today he said goodbye to one faithful friend, and accepted the strength of another, and however odd the pair of them seemed be, the young warlock was grateful for it.

-M4E9-

**Author's notes**: This was a one shot centered around one scene in **Season 4, ending of Episode 9: "Lancelot Du Lac"** with references to **Season 4: Episodes 1 & 2: "The Darkest Hour"** the scene where Merlin frees Lancelot from the Shade so that he may be returned to rest in peace. I thought this was such a powerful and extremely sad scene, especially in the aftermath of all the hurt it caused. I wondered at what was going through Merlin's head, and who Merlin had left to lean on.

I'm also a big Lancelot and Gwaine fan. The friendship they shared with Merlin I think were very special in their unique kind of ways. Gwaine, in many stories, is reduced to mostly a drunkard for comedy relief, but I think he was a lot more, and understood a lot more about Merlin, so I wanted to include him in here too.

It's not only Arthur's darkest hour, it's Merlins too, and sometimes, even a powerful warlock needs a friend to lean on and grieve too.


End file.
